So began the monologue:
“Yes, of course I’ll train the dog!”
And in hindsight this we see
Was the greatest lie in history.
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Tag Archives: Bad
The Extent Of My Megalomania (Which Is Also A Good Name For A Country)
If I had my own country…
Let’s call it Placelandia…
I know exactly
The flag I’d want.
It would be all white
But with black letters
That said “Placelandia”
In the biggest possible font.
I think Placelandia
Would be kinda okay
And help elementary school kids
Get, in geography, an A.
Filed under Poems
A Lie Detector Poem
Such is the river adamant:
Neither deep
Nor swift upon the rocks
Of misunderstanding,
Nor should she nod
When it means “optic nerve,”
Or so the sages said.
Two times the wolf.
Two times the narrator.
So why is this a lie detector?
Just read this to someone and ask them what it means to them.
If they say “it’s crap,” congratulations! You have an honest friend.
If they say “the bit about the wolf was chilling” (or anything else, for that matter) you have a suck up, a liar, or (worst of all) a PhD on your hands.
Filed under Poems, To the Reader
We Are The Sum Of Our Experiences
Have you ever seen a sunrise
And thought “that’s very yellow?”
Have you ever met a stranger
And known you do not know the fellow?
Have you ever started a poem
Without knowing how it will end?
If so I have to ask you
To stop trying to steal my identity.
Filed under Poems
Is This Just Uninspired Trash Or Some Sort Of Super-Roundabout-Yomama Joke Or What?
Folks sometimes yell
“Jesus Christ!” When they’re mad,
But what did Mary shout
When Jesus was bad?
I do have a theory
And, yes, it is lame
But when Jesus was bad
Mary shouted my name.
Filed under Poems
White Men…
Forty-thousand years ago
I was not yet born.
There was no clear cut logging,
Slow wi-fi or GMO corn.
The Federal Reserve
Had some cash they’d yet to spend
And there’d never been a war
Designed to have no end.
Alas, what we have now’s
Not what we had.
I guess that I should probably say
“My bad.”
A school shooting three times a year
Is worse than the crusades.
Sixty-eight cents on a man’s dollar
Is worse than not getting paid.
All the knowledge in the world
Is just a finger tap away,
But it can’t match the tribal elders
Saying “stone that guy. He’s gay.”
Despite the stained glass windows
God’s our middle-eastern dad,
So from this white guy to the world:
Oops, my bad.
Filed under Poems
Le’eonardo De’avinci
Yo, ‘sup homie.
I got da shizzow:
It’s a portrait I did
Of dis half-smilin’ hoe.
It’s all kinda dark
In a beige kinda style
And I figga the critics
Gonna rave for a while.
I got some new model
But wut’s dat bitch’s name?
Moana? Le’isa?
Nothing worthy of fame.
They’ll ask why’d I paint it
And wonder howso.
Too bad I was trippin’
And forgot her brows yo!
#Wurd
Filed under Poems
